


Pear Falls Far from the Tree

by veronicafromneptune (Pigeonsplotinsecrecy)



Series: Flashes From The Past [1]
Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Childhood Abuse, I hate aaron echolls, PTSD, Pears, mentions of abuse, mostly cannon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 20:32:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19708900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pigeonsplotinsecrecy/pseuds/veronicafromneptune
Summary: It starts with a pair of pears in a fruit bowl, and from there, Logan's mind spirals to a place he'd rather not visit, and he remembers why he can't stand the smell of pears. It had been years since his father was alive, but some scars never seemed to go away.





	Pear Falls Far from the Tree

They’d never really talked about how much he hated pears. It was one of those things that Logan had never been able to get rid of. No matter how much he tried, the mere smell of pears was too visceral for Logan. Veronica was careful to keep pears away, knowing how they’d make Logan’s stomach turn and head begin to swim in thoughts of the past. Even just passing them in the store, would stir up discomfort in the pit of his stomach.

It’d been years since Aaron had been around to bother him, but Logan still couldn’t shake some of the idiosyncrasies that years of abuse had instilled in him. He was used to avoiding and diverting and ignoring during his childhood. He tended to push aside the trauma instead of bothering to work through it, and mostly, that was fine. Rarely, did he physically react to objects that threw him back to his “special” time with his dad. He tried not to react at all.

He was better than he used to be, but little things could still set him off. Like when he and Veronica had gone to a dinner party at the neighbors’ and he’d spotted a pair of pears in the fruit bowl. He’d felt his heart speed up as nausea built in his stomach. _Get yourself together, Logan, it’s just fruit,_ he told himself as Margie and Victoria welcomed them into their pristine home. The two women had been married for nearly fifteen years and they had long ago learned how to organize the chaos of each other’s life. Logan and Veronica had to much chaos to organize it.

The bowl of fruit made Logan’s skin itch. He eased himself away from the kitchen island, putting Veronica between him and the pears. His tiny, blonde hero. It was silly and babyish to let something so harmless make him want to run away, or worse, punch someone. Veronica could tell he was distracted, and it didn’t take her long to link his inattention to the bowl of pears. She was a sharp one. She took his hands, rubbing circles on it with her thumb, and he exhaled a little. _It’s just a bowl of pears. No one’s making you eat any._

Another couple, Danny and Livia arrived, and Logan tried to act like a friendly, normal human being so Veronica could get the info she needed for the case she was working, two homicides that had taken place in their new neighborhood. The victims had been each hit over the head with a blunt object, which had yet to be found.

Margie Erickson was known to have all the neighborhood gossip, so the invitation to dinner had been the perfect opportunity for digging and getting to know some of the players, which had led to her dragging Logan to the white stone house down the road.

An older man arrived with his much younger wife, Nadia, a model-esque woman with long brown hair and deep brown eyes. Years ago, as a teenager, she’d be just the kind of woman that Logan would have treated as a conquest. She reminded him a little of Kendall. They both had that same carnality in their eyes and that same easy smile. Kendall had not been one of Logan’s proudest moments, not because she was married or older but because he couldn’t scrub the memory of Veronica seeing them together. He hadn’t remembered much of the night before, but he knew enough to realize that he had messed up. He’d rather be beaten than to ever see Veronica have that look on her face again.

Before, it would have been a challenge for him to see if he could rip Nadia away from her husband. He used to treat women as a game because life was easier when it wasn’t taken seriously. Now, Nadia was just a pretty woman who had no allure. He didn’t feel a need to play games or try to steal the woman because women weren’t possession, and he didn’t need anything more than Veronica.

He had grown since his teenage years; he had survived, but he was left with scars. Like the damn pears.

Vicky offered drinks to her guests while Margie finished up dinner, which smelled heavenly to no one’s surprise. Apparently, Margie was good at all kitchen related things. Danny prattled on about his latest audition. A wannabe actor was the last thing Logan needed in his life. He had a special distaste for actors.

A pair of newlyweds arrived, Kelsi Anne and Jared, who were still in that “we’re so in love and will disgust everyone with it” phase, and finally, a sole man, Vicky’s brother, Tom, straggled behind the rest of the attendees.

It was crowded and Logan felt himself sweating, taking a sip of his soda. Crowds and memories of childhood trauma were a potent mix. Logan, known for being the life of a party, was exhausted before the dinner had even started.

As they sat down at the dining table, Logan kept a careful watch on the pears in the kitchen, glad to be getting some distance from them. _They’re not going to grow fucking legs and attack._ Veronica gave him a look that Logan knew was a question, “Do I need to get us out of here?” Almost imperceptibly, Logan shook his head. As tempting as it was, Logan wasn’t going to run away because of a piece of fruit. He wasn’t going to think of pears being shoved down his throat, the moment he couldn’t breathe, the crying, or his mother taking the knife from the cheese plate.

“Hey,” Danny said, breaking through the beginning of bad memories beginning to bubble, “you’re Aaron Echoll’s son, aren’t you?” he tried to play it off like the thought had just struck him, but it was obvious that Danny had been waiting until they had all been ushered to the table to broach the subject. So much for avoiding bad memories. Veronica shifted in her seat, trying to restrain whatever snarky comment she wanted to make.

Logan wasn’t going to lie. He refused to let his father’s, controversial at best, memory haunt him more than it had to, “He’s dead now.”

Danny shook his head. “That’s tragic, man. The world isn’t the same without him.”

“He was a murderer, Danny,” Livia said to her husband, “You shouldn’t glamorize him.”

“He was acquitted,” Danny argued. He had a very punchable face.

Logan worried that what his father did would follow him for the rest of his life. Every time he tried to move on, something would poke him right where it hurt.

“Wait,” Kelsi Anne asked, “Your dad is a movie star? That’s so cool.” _Yeah, so cool,_ Logan thought, trying to forget all the reasons life with Aaron Echolls had been anything but cool.

Veronica interrupted, “It seems like you have a murderer all of your own in this neighborhood. We just moved in, and it’s a little concerning that there’s already been two murders.”

“Our town normally isn’t like that,” Vicky insisted.

“It’s terrible, really it is,” Livia added.

“I don’t know where I’ll get my pears now that Tony is dead. His were the best ones in town. He was such a sweet man,” Margie commented from the kitchen.

“Julie, not so much,” Vicky mumbled.

The male newlywed finally spoke, “Isn’t it a little weird to be talking about the dead over dinner? Both Julie and Tony were obnoxious, anyways.”

Kelsi Anne laughed at him lightly, a tone that would devolve into annoyed eyerolls and bickering by their first anniversary, “Jared, what else is there to talk about? And you shouldn’t talk bad about the dead.”

Nadia looked exasperated. “You just like the gossip, Kelsi. We all know that you’ve hated Julie ever since she started dating Kevin.”

“It’s Kelsi _Anne._ ”

Danny looked smug, “All I know is that Julie was smoking hot. We dated in high school. I don’t know why she was friends with that nerd, Tony. He liked being in his orchard too much if you ask me. No wonder he was single.” The whole thing was giving Logan a headache. He wasn’t sure how Veronica could stand putting up with inane banter like this on a regular basis.

“What exactly happened?” Veronica asked, playing dumb. Likely, she knew more than all of them combined about the crime.

“Someone wanted both Tony and Julie dead,” Nadia said ominously.

“Who would do such a thing?” Veronica prodded.

“Dinner is served,” Margie called, bringing out the final platter of food before anyone else could answer. Less rowdy chatter continued as the food was served and more drinks were poured.

Logan’s nervousness had lessened now that the pears were so distant from his mind. They were far enough away in the kitchen that the tension in his shoulders could relax. He didn’t have to think about pears, his father, or any of the other bad things that had happened to him. He could eat and pretend that the other guests were tolerable.

“For dessert, we have pear pie,” Margie said sweetly when the conversation had hushed as everybody dug into their food. Logan’s stomach turned in dread, terror even. _Who the hell makes pear pie? Pears are just apples’ frumpier cousin._ He kept his face cool, even though he was starting to have trouble concentrating. Just when he thought he was safe, everything went spiraling again.

He couldn’t comprehend what others at the table were saying as he fought the urge to runaway before his ability to keep dinner down was tested. It had been years since he’d been close enough to smell a pear, and maybe he’d react better now, but he certainly didn’t want to test that in front of his batty new neighbors. He wasn’t looking to be the subject of their next wave of gossip.

Vicky smiled back at her wife, giving her a chaste kiss on the cheek. “You make the best pies, snuggle bunny.” If pears made Logan sick, cloying pet names made Veronica dry heave. She’d sooner shoot her own mouth before seriously using such a mushy term of endearment. Logan looked at Veronica and could tell she was trying not to laugh. Normally, he’d be laughing himself if not for the threat of pear pie. _I need to calm down. I’m a grown man. I’ve been through a lot worse._

He knew he wouldn’t be able to eat any pie without getting sick, but he wasn’t sure he could even stand watching others eat it, let alone smelling it. Did pears smell less pear-like when baked in cinnamon and sugar? Logan sure didn’t care to find out, but he was too stubborn to excuse his way out of this because the truth certainly wasn’t feasible. He could only imagine telling them how he really felt, “Sorry, I have an irrational fear of pears. I have to go. Peace.” They’d laugh, thinking he was trying to make a joke. It wasn’t uncommon for people to laugh at a comment Logan had meant sincerely.

“Oh, how wonderful! I don’t know if we’ll be able to stay for dessert, though” Veronica crooned, echoing Margie’s sweet, almost saccharine, voice. Only she and Logan would know that her tone was a mockery. “My honey angel here has an early day tomorrow.” Logan stifled a laugh, his mind forgetting the past for a moment.

“Sugar pie, I can handle a late night just this once.” He wasn’t going to ruin Veronica’s investigation merely because of pears. He was an adult. He wasn’t that abused little kid forced to eat pears on Christmas. His tormentor was very much dead, even if his memory was very much alive.

To his dread, Margie brought out the pie and began serving it.

“Oh, no. I don’t want any, thanks.” Logan said when he was offered a slice. He tried not to puke as it was shoved under his nose.

“Margie is the best baker on the block,” Livia said. “You should really try some.”

“You’ll hurt her feelings if you don’t,” Vicky warned. _I’ll hurt her feelings more if I puke after one bite._

“It’s nothing personal,” Veronica spoke up. “Logan doesn’t like pears no matter how you serve them. He doesn’t even like my famous pear cobbler.” He stifled a laugh at the thought of Veronica baking an award winning anything. She certainly could get by in the kitchen when she put her mind to it, but baking was not one of her passions, and she certainly wouldn’t make anything so vile as a pear cobbler. She’d at least have the courtesy to stick to peach.

Margie face turned sour. “This is an award-winning pie. Even the youngest Sampson boy down the street loves it, and he’s the pickiest eater you’d ever meet.” She scoffed, “Pear cobbler? You think _that_ would win any competition.” The smell wafted into Logan’s nose, and he stifled a gag.

“I don’t know, Margie. You only got third place at last year’s fair.”

“The competition was rigged.”

Nadia was the type to push buttons just for the sake of pushing buttons. “Oh, Margie, just accept that someone may not want your pie.” She turned to Logan, “I’m not too excited about the pie either, but there’s no escaping it when you come into this house.”

Logan was too dizzy to respond. He couldn’t stop his mind from pulling out the terror and sickness he had felt that day. _Oh, no. I’m going to lose it in front of all these people. I need to stop remembering_. But there was no halting the memories flooding his mind.

The first pear had been easy, but by the third, Logan was having trouble keeping it all down. He was a little kid who’d already had a big breakfast that stretched his stomach to full capacity. Then, his dad had started forcing the pears in his mouth, and Logan had started sobbing. He hadn’t meant to do it; he knew his father didn’t like crybabies, but he couldn’t help it as the mushy fruit slid down his throat into his already aching stomach. He wanted to vomit, but he couldn’t with the constant stream of food being pushed into him. His father’s eyes were wild, with a look that went beyond Aaron’s usual cold, calculated cruelty. Aaron looked untethered. At least when Logan was being beaten with a belt or burned or forced to stay awake long past when he was tired, Aaron never looked out of control; in those times, he always seemed to have planned exactly how far he was going to go with the punishment, but with the pear incident, there was no telling when Aaron would stop.

It hadn’t been just his father that had scared him that Christmas. He was used to Aaron striking fear into him. The whole volatility of that day had traumatized him, the tension between his parents sending new levels of panic into him. While he was choking on half-chewed pairs, Lynn Echolls had finally set her glass of champagne down.

The image of his mother holding a cheese knife against his father’s neck flashed through his head. It had just been a cheese knife, nothing too impressive, but as a kid, the sight of his normally passive mother jumping into action had felt particularly dangerous because the unexpected interference made the incident stand out as abnormal. He was used to abuse, but usually it was just between him and his father with everyone else pretending nothing happened, which meant it never occurred to him that what his father did to him was wrong because no one ever gave an indication that it was out of the ordinary. When his mom did more than sipping a drink during the action, only to comfort Logan when Aaron had stormed off, his fear was ramped up because that meant he was in _real_ danger. It was no longer normal dad and son stuff.

And every time he smelled pears, that special cocktail of fear and dread swirled in his stomach.

To compensate for Logan’s lack of pie, Veronica had been given two pieces. It was too much like Aaron’s force feeding for Logan’s liking, but Veronica didn’t seem to mind. He couldn’t watch her eat it. If he did, he was going to be sick. He kept his eyes down. Watching people eat pears, even pears muted by cinnamon and sugar, was even worse than smelling them, he realized.

When Veronica had finished her second piece of pie—Logan couldn’t understand how— she gave one look at Logan, who nearly looked as green as a pear, and knew they had to get home. She politely facilitated their goodbyes and ushered the man she loved to the car.

”You didn’t have to stay there,” she said.

”Exposure therapy,” he joked with a laugh, still looking as green as one of Margie’s pears.

Logan pushed back the gagging and vomit until they made it home, and he could puke in the privacy of his own toilet. Veronica stayed silent, knowing better than to try to console or comfort him. She always had a sixth sense about what he needed.

He rushed to the bathroom, not having time to close the door behind him. When he was done puking, he rinsed his mouth and brushed his teeth, trying to shake thoughts of his dead dad from his head. _Why am I still so messed up? After all of these years, why do I let him still mess with me like this?_

“You okay?” Veronica asked him when he came back to the living room.

“I hope you got the information you needed.”

“I got that and more.” She perched herself on his lap, giving him a long kiss. “Do you want to talk about it?” She was persistent.

“It’s just the same old memories wreaking havoc.”

“I thought you were exaggerating when you said the smell of pears still made you puke.”

“It’s stupid, I know.”

“It’s not. I just wish you hadn’t had to deal with Margie.”

“Margie is a madwoman who wants to force pears onto everyone she meets. I can’t believe she made you eat two pieces of pie.”

“The pears!” she exlaimed, jumping up from his lap.

“What about them?” He didn’t want to talk any more about it. He just wanted to push all those thoughts back into the safe in his mind.

She kissed him on the cheek, “I think I just solved the case.”

“Care to explain?”

Veronica grinned, “Everyone supposedly likes Margie’s pie, but what if they didn’t? Julie scored Margie’s pie lowly at the fair.” He didn’t bother asking how Veronica had known that. “We know she got into verbal fights with the judges over her loss.” He didn’t recall hearing that either. “She clearly was upset about it, so what if she escalated and got rid of the people who ruined her five-year winning streak?”

“What does Tony have to do with any of it?”

“He sold her the pairs that ruined her pie.”

“Veronica…that’s an extreme theory, even for you.”

“If anyone would kill because of a third-place pie, it would be Margie.”

“You’re convinced she killed them over pie?”

“She didn’t kill them over pie, not really. She killed them over the way her pie losing made her feel.”

“Don’t get psychological on me,” but Logan knew what Veronica meant. For him, it wasn’t the pear itself that was intimidating but everything the pear represented.

“Her status as best baker in town is her whole pride and joy. She owns a bakery, meaning that it’s her livelihood too. Everything she is wrapped up on making perfect food. That’s her entire reputation.”

“She’s a sore loser. That doesn’t prove she’s a murderer.”

“No, but the fact that both the victims had remnants of pear pie in their stomach makes me thing that Margie might have paid them a last visit. She obviously off her rocker, killing isn’t that much of a stretch.

“You’re going to need more proof than that.”

She kissed him again, lips roaming down to his neck. She pulled away for a moment. “Oh trust me, I’ll have it after one conversation with her, and you know what this all proves?”

Logan smiled, feeling calmer than he had all night. “What?”

“That pears really are scary.”

Logan chuckled, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hoped you enjoyed reading this. Feel free to comment and give feedback. Thanks for reading!! Catch me at veronicafromneptune on tumblr


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